


Dusk

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bondage, Confusing amalgamation of book and show canon, Denial, Implied Rape Fantasy, Imprisonment, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sexual Fantasy, dubcon fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: It is not as if he enjoys watching Lannister in his chains, beard growing in scruff around his neck, shackled and unshackled and caged whenever they make camp. Perhaps, being honest, he would enjoy it more if he got some sense of shame from the man – the sense that he truly had humbled this lion, avenged his father and brother, if only in the pettiest of ways. But no. He senses annoyance from the man, but no matter how he's abused, no true humiliation. That bothers him.





	Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> For day 5 of asoiaf rarepair week, the prompt: day/night.

The Lannister is in chains throughout the day, and it's not like Robb is a man to do such a thing for the purposes of humiliation – not even to a man such as that – but well, it is only practical, isn't it? He does not _trust_ Lannister, with that catlike cunning in his eye, knows he would take any chance to escape. Robb cannot afford that. Jaime Lannister is his most valuable prisoner, and as much as it disgusts him to have to look at the man day after day, he will not lose him.

It is not as if he enjoys watching Lannister in his chains, beard growing in scruff around his neck, shackled and unshackled and caged whenever they make camp. Perhaps, being honest, he would enjoy it more if he got some sense of shame from the man – the sense that he truly had humbled this lion, avenged his father and brother, if only in the pettiest of ways. But no. He senses annoyance from the man, but no matter how he's abused, no _true_ humiliation. That bothers him.

It does not particularly bother him until he retires to his own tent for the evening. When he does, he thinks the exhaustion of movement should steal him into sleep, but of course it never does. His mind races too much with the plans for the battle ahead, the void that always seems to open up after whatever battles ahead, eating at his insides with worry.

Jaime Lannister is but one more thing to worry about, but one that seems to have commandeered a disproportionate amount of Robb's attention, against his will. Robb can just imagine the man's smug laugh if he knew that. _Sorry, little wolf, you weren't using all this space in your head, were you? It's cramped in my cage you see, I needed some space to stretch my legs..._

Robb shudders to think.

He doesn't know why it bothers him so much that the Kingslayer is still so proud. Is it simply that he wanted to break an enemy down, and he cannot? Perhaps. But it doesn't feel quite right.

In many ways, Lannister's behaviour is admirable. Robb hopes he too would have that strength of character, were he captured by the enemy (should he ever lose a battle, should he cease to be the Young Wolf his followers so worship, should any of the things that keep him up at night come to pass) – to keep his pride and his tongue in the face of whatever they might do to him.

But he struggles to think he would. No matter what his people call him he still feels like a boy in far too deep, hiding behind his crown and his victories, lest anyone see the terror beneath. He fears that if the Lannisters had him they would know that, somehow, and find him pitifully easy to break. He can imagine Ser Jaime freed, resplendent in his white cloak, freshly shaved and laughing at how the tables are turned. He can imagine the man's sword hand in his hair, pulling his face up to spat upon. He imagines himself locked to a post, struggling against his bonds helplessly, and the Kingslayer leading the crowd in laughing at how pointless it is. He imagines the man whispering at him, telling him a wolf tamed is little more than a bitch, and _you know what bitches are for, don't you?_

Robb gasps and rolls on his side, shocked by his own thoughts. He is thinking of this a way he shouldn't be, and – no, he cannot. It isn't _that_. It is something to be feared, perhaps, in some distant far off way – as something that will never actually happen, for he would never let it. He'd sooner die.

And there is absolutely no part of him that thinks he might desire it, to be the one in chains, sinking into filth, helpless to resist no matter how much he spits and growls. Of course not. What madman could possibly want such a thing?

It would be easy enough, however, to turn the tables and take advantage of Lannister, like he's heard men sometimes do to their prisoners. Would that not give him the satisfaction of seeing the man brought low, like he craves?

_No, of course not._ Leaving aside the fact Robb would never do such a thing (and do to so would degrade him more than Lannister, he's somehow sure) – he knows the man would never make it so easy. Knowing him he would play along, spread his legs like the most willing slut, just so Robb couldn't get the satisfaction of making him. _What's the matter, boy?_ Robb can hear him whispering. _Even the whores won't warm your cock, and so you have to turn to me instead?_

Robb could just shove said cock down his throat to shut him up, but even that he can't imagine working. He imagines Jaime Lannister being smug and proud even with his lips wrapped around Robb's shaft. He imagines those green eyes smirking up at him, and it makes him hard and nauseous at once.

There is no relief, and so Robb spends another restless night at war with himself. He wakes with the break of dawn, and peaks out his tent to see Jaime in his cage, looking just the same as ever.

 


End file.
